PSIFF Report: Family Matters—Capsule Reviews of L’Enfant (The Child), El Cielo Gira (The Sky Turn

As played by Renier, a memorably hapless victim in Francois Ozon’s wicked LES AMANTS CRIMINELS (CRIMINAL LOVERS), Bruno betrays nary a hint of emotional undercurrent. Still, there’s an edge of danger that’s ever present, and its clear why the teenage Sonia might fall for him.

Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne wrote and directed with equally cool, old school documentary-style hands. L’ENFANT capitulates to a truly puzzling change of heart in its final frames, one that may cheer the heart of those who believe in the reformative powers of imprisonment, but confuse everyone else. Until that misstep—the change of heart comes out of thin air, unsupported by any previous trace of deep thought in the eyes or actions of the character—it is completely understandable why the film emerged victorious with the Palme d’Or at last year’s Cannes Film Festival over more highly-touted fare such as A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE, BROKEN FLOWERS, and CACHE.

L’ENFANT’s very becoming modesty is its most appealing feature. Sony Pictures Classics will release it in the US on March 17. More details are available at the official US web site.

While L’ENFANT portrays a family at the beginning of its dysfunction, EL CIELO GIRA (THE SKY TURNS) is concerned with a small town whose inhabitants form their own kind of fully-functional, pragmatic family.

Filmmaker Mercedes Alvarez spent a year filming her hometown in a rural part of Spain. She and her family moved away in the late 1960s, but little has changed, with the exception of the steadily-shrinking population. The village is far removed from city life and can no longer support its inhabitants, so the young have moved away, leaving a sturdy citizenry that is impervious to change—as nicely illustrated by two competing political campaign teams who sweep through town in a matter of minutes.

It’s difficult to comprehend such isolated, empty landscapes in Southern Europe; the untouched beauty of the gorgeous scenery makes it otherworldly. Those who remain are sanguine about the long-term prospects of the town, but carry on with their everyday existence. By their words, they sound like colorful fictional characters, filled with rough-hewn wisdom that they are all too ready to dispense. Take one look at their wrinkled skin and broken-down surroundings, and all thought of fiction flies out the door.

Alvarez films in long takes with a camera that is often stationary as the town undergoes changes over the course of the year. But there’s no need to worry about ‘talking heads,’ since Alvarez captures—or possibly stages—conversations as the residents walk up hills or sit and gossip. Over the length of the running time, it’s easy to be captivated by the rich imagery and the richer lives of the old folks, and to feel the rhythm of the life of the town as it slows down to its final breath. When changes do happen, it’s jarring to the senses, and one can only admire the residents’ ability to roll with the punches.

EL CIELO GIRA has played at a number of festivals, but doesn’t yet appear to be available on DVD. If anyone has news to the contrary, please add a comment.

Listen to the extended, heated exchanges in RUSEVINE (THE RUINS), and you’ll be convinced that Slovenian is one of the best languages in the world for arguing. All those multi-syllabic words filled with consonants and hard sounds are terrific for expressing anger, frustration, and resentment, three emotions that run high in the theatrical family unit that is dissected by Janez Burger, directing from a script he co-wrote with Ana Lasic.

Flamboyant playwright/director Herman (Darko Rundek) has told his backers and cast that he has discovered a lost classic of the Icelandic stage. In reality, he wrote the play himself under a pseudonym, symptomatic of his favored method of deceiving and manipulating those around him. That includes his wife of 20 years, whom he has cast for the first time in one of his productions. She has an eye-opening first day under his direction, and soon finds herself in even hotter water when her husband becomes convinced that she is having an affair with his long-time best friend. Of course, the best friend has also been cast as the play’s leading man, and his love scenes with the director’s wife take on added meaning.

The way that the inflammatory arguments—between the director and his wife, between the wife and the best friend, and between the wife and the best friend’s wife—are filmed and acted electrify what could be standard-issue “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe?"-style marital-dispute material. They have the fresh feeling of pure oxygen being expelled through the lungs, and are dramatically satisfying.

The cast also features Natasa Burger, Vesna Jevnikar, and Natasa Matjasec.

RUSEVINE, as a whole, fails to live up to its most compelling individual scenes, and the finale veers off into an elaborate enactment of the stage play that tries too hard to impress. Still, the searing battle royales of dialogue leave a tasty impression.

The film doesn’t yet appear to be available on DVD. RUSEVINE is Slovenia’s submission for the Academy Awards. The official English-language web site is here.